


StockHolmes Syndrome

by rougewinter



Series: Pierce The Flesh [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Human!Mycroft, M/M, Vampire!Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rougewinter/pseuds/rougewinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/383980">Bleed Me Dry</a>. Lestrade finds himself in the employ of Mr. Mycroft Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	StockHolmes Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Alphera](http://alphera.livejournal.com/), the fantastic darling.  
> Although it takes place after [Bleed Me Dry](http://archiveofourown.org/works/383980), you don’t really need to read it to understand this fic. This is a PWP and a way to make myself feel better after what I did to poor Greg in BMD.

After Mycroft resolved the issue of the Blood Defence Bill a few months ago, the man entered into a mutually beneficial agreement with the Vampire Authority’s representative that peace between their kinds be maintained. Somewhere during the negotiations, the human had slipped in as part of the terms that Greg would now be working for him as a goodwill ambassador, which is simply just a fancy sounding term for errand boy. Greg had protested fiercely, but Queen Adler had simply waved his concerns away. 

“Oh come on, Greg.” She said with an amused smirk, “it’s not so bad. It’s the least we can do after he cleaned up your mess.” Greg winced at the reminder of his failure. One part of him was thankful that Mycroft had not told the Authority about the method he’d opted to use in dealing with Thomson, but another part cringed at the idea of being at the man’s beck and call. 

“Be a darling and keep an eye on Holmes for us, just to make sure he’s holding up his end of the bargain.” Irene told him with a lighthearted wink as she saw him out of her mansion and into a waiting black car. With the assurance that he had a bigger role other than being a toy that Mycroft could show off to _all his little friends_ , Greg had agreed to play nice. Even so, that didn’t mean Greg couldn’t take a perverse satisfaction at baring his fangs at Piglet and making the human jump when he saw the man inside the vehicle. 

But now, with the kinds of missions Mycroft was prone to send him off to, he wasn’t sure if being tied to a Holmes was better than meeting the True Death.

When he returned to the Holmes residence, Greg found Mycroft sitting by the fireplace of the Master Suite, reading glasses perched on the man’s nose and a book in hand. The man didn’t acknowledge his presence so Greg didn’t bother with pleasantries. He strode across the room and dropped a freshly severed hand on the table beside Holmes’ glass of Scotch, making the golden liquid ripple from the impact. 

“I _hate_ witches.” Greg said with a growl, “And I’m pretty sure you send me after them on purpose.” 

Mycroft’s gray-blue gaze drifted slowly from his book to the bloody hand then up to look blandly at Greg. “I wanted her back in one piece.” Holmes said with a small disappointed crease on his forehead.

Greg blinked at the man, putting on the most innocent expression he could manage. “That’s one piece of her, innit?” He said, nodding to the hand.

Mycroft gave Greg an unimpressed stare before saying, “I was hoping to ask her a few questions to tie up some loose ends, but I suppose these things can’t be helped.” He then carefully took off his slim frames, placed them atop his closed book and left both on the table when he stood. Taking the hand by two of its fingers, Holmes threw the offending appendage into the fireplace, mindless of the red splatter it left on the carpet and hardwood floors on its flight to the flames. 

Both men watched silently as the skin darken then crisp up in the fire. Greg wrinkled his nose in disgust as the smell of burning flesh hit him for the second time that night. The witch hadn’t gone down without a fight when he had confronted her, and she summoned a blast of flame that struck his left side when he had been a second too late in dodging the attack. Parts of his injury had healed, but he would need to feed again before sunrise if he wanted to be completely regenerated by tomorrow night. The suit that he wore, however, didn’t possess his special abilities and was unfortunately no longer salvageable. 

Greg was about to leave for the night, slowly turning away from Holmes to make a hasty exit, when he noticed the man was looking intently at him.

“What?” Greg spat out, annoyed that Holmes was staring at him. 

The human said nothing, the corner of his lips quirking up when he shifted closer to the vampire. A hand slowly reached out to push Greg’s charred jacket out of the way before a warm finger pressed lightly against the vampire’s exposed, tender and still reddened skin. 

Mycroft made a thoughtful noise, gently wiping the soot away from the area before deeply digging his nails into Greg’s flesh. 

In a split second, Holmes was slammed against the opposite wall, Greg’s hands pinning the man’s wrists on either side of his head to hold him there. Greg’s fangs were bared and pressed a mere hair’s breadth from Holmes’ neck, right above a quickly pulsating major artery. This close, Greg could practically taste the human’s fear, and he reveled in smelling this particular emotion from this man for the first time. However, the undertone of excitement and lust that laced Mycroft’s distress was unexpected, but not unwelcome. 

“This turns you on, doesn’t it?” Greg whispered with a wry smile, enjoying the way Mycroft shivered as he spoke against goose-pimpled flesh. He pressed their bodies closer together, feeling the hard proof of Mycroft’s attraction when he slipped a thigh between the man’s legs, earning him a whimper when he purposely applied some pressure to the area. 

Greg nosed his way past Holmes’ stiff white collar, breathing in more of the human’s scent and enjoying the heady mix of anxiety and arousal that practically begged him to feed. His lips brushed almost reverently over the frantic pulse point, his mouth watering in anticipation of tasting Mycroft’s blood again, in deep gulps this time, knowing it would only be made sweeter by the fact that he had Holmes completely at his mercy.

Greg had almost forgotten how euphoric the moment just before biting into a human was, so he took his time savouring the sensation, the tips of his fangs playfully grazing over Mycroft’s nape as he sought out the best location to sink them into.

When he finally punctured flesh, breaking through the little resistance of human skin, Greg’s eyes fluttered closed at the delicious taste of Holmes’ hot blood hitting his tongue. He didn’t bother stifling a moan, too busy swallowing mouthfuls of the nourishing substance and feeling the warm liquid settle into his empty belly to truly care about appearances. So engrossed was he in his feeding that he was barely aware of how aroused he was until Mycroft’s leg moved to curl over his hip, bringing their bodies even closer together and causing their erections to press against one another. Greg couldn’t help but move in answer when Mycroft started rubbing up against him.

It took him a while longer to realise what was going on (and perhaps that was part of Holmes’ plan all along). Only when he sheathed his fangs and pulled away after stemming the blood flow did he notice the way his brain had become muddled and his perceptions hazy; feelings not at all customary during or after a feeding. 

Greg almost fell onto the floor in his efforts to stumble away from Holmes, but the human caught him firmly by the arm. 

“Careful.” Mycroft chastised softly as he led the vampire to the large bed, dropping Greg unceremoniously onto the mattress. Greg floundered about as he turned around to face Holmes, unwilling to show the man his back especially in this state. Greg shook his head in an attempt to clear the fogginess, blinking blurry vision away just in time to see Mycroft slide a deep blue tie from around his blood-soaked collar and let it drop to the floor. Greg watched Mycroft slowly start to unbutton the shirt, noticing the way the man did it slowly, as if putting on a show. Once done, Mycroft used his already ruined shirt to wipe away the rest of the messy blood from his neck and shoulder before throwing the garment to a far corner of the room. 

Greg swallowed, refusing to retreat from Mycroft’s advancing form despite his instincts telling him to flee. “What did you do to me?” Greg winced at the way his voice was hoarse and his throat was dry despite having just drank.

“Weakening agent.” Holmes said matter-of-factly. 

With minimal fuss, Mycroft pulled Greg by his hips to sit him closer to the edge of the bed, deft fingers quickly slipping the belt out of the loops. It joined Mycroft’s tie on the floor. 

“You didn’t really expect me to let you bite me without a contingency plan? That would be the result of no forethought and abysmal training.” Greg cursed his carelessness under his breath, he’d forgotten that this was a _Holmes_ he was dealing with. 

“Don’t worry,” Mycroft continued as he worked to get Greg’s suit jacket off, “It won’t kill you. It simply nulls your supernatural abilities; makes you more... human.” If Greg was feeling more like himself, he would have ripped that smug grin off Holmes’ face without hesitation, human-vampire relations be damned. Instead, he settled for pushing Holmes away and ripping his ruined jacket off himself. 

If Holmes wanted to play, Greg was more than happy to oblige. 

\-----

Greg grunted when he pushed back against Mycroft’s solid frame, urging the human to move faster and deeper into him. From this position, hands and knees braced against the mattress, Greg had expected to have the leverage to set the pace, but Holmes’ unyielding hold on his hip and lower back prevented him from doing so. 

“Fucking…move!” Greg grit out as he tightened around the length inside him, hoping to encourage the man to just take him. 

Instead, the hand on his back moved over his healed flank and stomach and playfully flicked one of Greg’s nipples before he was pulled against Mycroft’s bare chest. Greg’s hands scrabbled for purchase, gripping Holmes’ wrist when he was brought to an upright position, the sudden shift causing Greg to lose his bearings. The feeling of Mycroft’s cock sliding deeper in him tore a moan out of him before he could stop it. The hand on the vampire’s hip moved down to his inner thigh, kneading the firm muscle under slick skin before taking hold of his erect shaft, making Greg gasp and thrust into the fist. 

The vampire turned his head slightly to face the other man, trying to convey his irritation through a hard glare. The challenging look he caught in Mycroft’s eyes only made Greg want to replace it with something else completely. Widening his stance and planting his knees on either side of Holmes’ lap, Greg started to ride the man’s length in a steadily rising tempo. The sudden hitch in Holmes’ breathing made Greg grin and only spurred him to clench tighter around Mycroft. 

The human retaliated by stroking Greg’s shaft, the thumb sweeping broadly over the tip and spreading the precum there; however, it was the fingers of Holmes’ other hand rubbing against the ring of Greg’s already stretched opening that made the vampire stutter in his movements. 

Greg squeezed Mycroft’s wrists in an attempt to stave off his completion as he arched against the man. His head fell against the human’s shoulder as he focused on riding the man and making Holmes come before he did. He vaguely felt Mycroft’s tongue licking his exposed sweat drenched nape, his attention drawn instead to the way Holmes’ hands were pleasuring his cock, balls and where they were so intimately connected. 

“You want to come, don’t you?” Mycroft’s voice cut through Greg’s pleasure-filled haze, causing a shiver to run through him. Greg took some consolation in the fact that Mycroft sounded about as wrecked as Greg felt. 

Greg shifted slightly away so he could turn his head enough to bump their noses together before saying with a wicked grin, “Bet I can make you come before I do.” 

Mycroft answered by suddenly pushing Greg onto the bed and slipping out of him. Before Greg could protest, Holmes had flipped him over onto his back, lifted one of his legs up and over a shoulder and slid back into him in a fluid motion. Greg bit out a curse when Holmes easily found the spot in him that made him see stars. The vampire pointedly refused to acknowledge the smug grin on Holmes’ face when the man realised what just happened, choosing to focus instead on making him come first. 

Greg’s other leg, the one curled around Mycroft’s hip, pulled the man closer in an effort to have him drive deeper. The man did so, making sure that Greg’s member received attention as well with each thrust. The vampire’s hands tangled in Mycroft’s soft brown locks, tugging the man down so Greg could ravage him; their lips, tongues and teeth joining in their battle for dominance. 

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for both of them to achieve completion after that, the sound of their ragged breathing was loud in the stark silence of the room. 

When Mycroft lifted his head and turned to look at Greg, the vampire was surprised to see the lust-blown grey eyes that stared back at him. He was familiar with that look from his previous bed partners, but he was unprepared to see it from Holmes. 

“You came first.” Greg rasped out in an effort to dispel the odd flutter that settled in his stomach. “I win.” 

“Hardly.” Mycroft said with a snort and pulled away, earning a groan from both of them when they separated. “Clearly I’m the winner.” 

Greg was barely aware of Mycroft tossing the used condom into the bin, blindly reaching out for a nearby garment to wipe the mess off his torso and thighs. Judging from the frown on Mycroft’s face, it seemed he had ruined the man’s silk pants. 

With a broad grin, he offered the article of clothing back to its owner. After hesitating for a few moments, Mycroft ended up taking it and cleaning himself up too before tossing it off to the floor. 

“I did win tho-” Greg was cut short when, just as he was about to roll off the bed, Mycroft gracelessly fell on top of him, effectively pinning him to the mattress. In his still weakened state, Greg could do nothing but nudge futilely against Holmes. Mycroft did shift off to the side slightly but left an arm firmly around Greg’s waist, holding the vampire snug against him. Greg tensed against the hold, a large part of him screaming to run away from whatever this confusing situation with Holmes was, warring with another part of him that sorely wanted to stay and enjoy the warmth of the other man.

“Stay.” Mycroft’s tone was far from commanding yet it was why Greg couldn’t find it in himself to leave. It certainly had nothing to do with how Holmes’ lips grazed tenderly against his shoulder or how Mycroft’s nose pressed against his neck when the man started using him as a pillow. He told himself that he was only staying so he could continue arguing that he’d won tonight. 

He felt the even rise and fall of Mycroft breathing and, for a fleeting moment, realised how easy it would be to kill the man in his sleep. The vampire shut his eyes tightly, refusing to work out whether the hard knot in his throat was due to guilt or the realisation that Mycroft trusted him enough to fall asleep by his side. 

Shelving that issue for now, Greg reached for the thick comforter to cover them both before burrowing closer to the warm human beside him, settling in for the day. 

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcome.


End file.
